


I Won't Let You Die

by Rebelwerewolf



Series: I Won't Let You Die [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 1940s, 1950s, 1970s, 2000s, Amputation, Angst, Epistolary, Forbidden Love, Insomnia, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Minor Character(s), Nightmares, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebelwerewolf/pseuds/Rebelwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux, an army doctor, meets Ben in a field hospital during World War 2. They struggle with a decades-long forbidden love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Let You Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitseybarbours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitseybarbours/gifts).



> Hux is 24 in 1945, and Ben is 19.

**2004**

 Age-spotted hands trembled as the elderly man stood in front of his mirror and buttoned his crisp white shirt. Once, long ago, he had been a sharp dresser, but now his wardrobe consisted mostly of sweaters and jeans with elastic waistbands. He reached for a bow tie in his closet, but it slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor. With a sigh, the old man slowly, carefully bent, right hand bracing his lower back, to pick up the red bow tie.

 His left hand brushed against a wooden box about the size of a shoe box, and he paused. Reaching both hands down, he grasped it tightly and retreated to a faded armchair against the far wall, the dropped bow tie all but forgotten. The hinges on the lid creaked as it opened, and the old man thumbed through the contents: scores of letters and newspaper clippings, some stored in envelopes of varying sizes, others simply folded, all yellowed with age.

 The local news station played quietly from a small television several feet from the armchair. A couple of newscasters discussed the recent implementation of the Goodridge v. Department of Public Health ruling. The man groped around on his nightstand for the remote and shut the TV off, preferring the company of his letters. He removed the first letter from the box, unfolded it delicately, adjusted his bifocals, and began to read.

 

**1945**

_Hux,_

_It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance, though the circumstances were less than ideal. I am being relocated to a hospital stateside. I hope we will meet again in happier times._

_\- B. Solo_

 

It had not been a good day for Doctor Brendol Hux II, though he supposed that it had been an even worse day for the unceasing flow of injured soldiers who were being brought into the abandoned train station that his team had converted into a makeshift hospital. When Nurse Phasma rushed over and informed him that there was a patient he needed to see to, Hux prepared for the worst. He hated the helpless feeling of watching a man die, but there simply was not time to attend to the men who would obviously would not survive, not when there were other men who could _maybe_ be saved.

  _If God will judge me, let Him do so_ , he thought while gritting his teeth. Hux was not a religious man, but he had been raised in a New England Protestant household. Knowing that he was destined to burn in hellfire made life easier for him, in a lot of ways. If he was to be damned, he might as well deserve it. Still, his spirits lifted when he saw that the patient in question was not, in fact, on the verge of death.

 In fact, the soldier was half-standing, his left arm draped over a smaller medic who was struggling to hold the large injured man's weight. He was also shouting, "Let go of me! I'm fine!" He was not fine. His right arm hung uselessly at his side. A medic had applied a tourniquet above the elbow. Below the elbow... well, the man would certainly be losing his arm.

 "Get on the bed, soldier," Hux commanded sharply.

 "I have to get back out there. My men -"

 Hux cut him off. "You're injured. You need treatment."

 The man glared at him with dark eyes, and for a second, Hux thought he might argue again, but instead he allowed the medic to help him onto the bed. Nurse Phasma was able to gather the man's name and rank, but when she tried to administer anesthetic, he again became combative. "Get that away from me," he hissed as she approached with the mask.

 Phasma tried to reason with him. "You need anesthetic for the surgery."

 "Don't lie to me!" The man's face was flushed with anger, and he was attempting to rise from the bed again. "People don't wake up from that. I don't want to die!" Phasma, who towered over most men, used her considerable strength to keep him down.

 Hux reached for the man's good hand. "Sergeant Solo," he said softly, "Look at me."

 The sergeant looked surprisingly young, barely out of boyhood. His nose and lips were overly large; his eyes were dark, deep-set, and full of passion. Hux tried not to think about how young all of the soldiers were, but every time he saw a patient's face, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness that so many young lives were being cut short. He met the young man's gaze with his cool, grey-green eyes and said, "I won't let you die. I promise."

 It was a falsehood, but one that worked well. Hux had never _let_ anyone die, but death claimed whoever it wished, regardless of Hux's promises. He just found that it was easier to operate on calm patients, and promising life was a surefire way to calm them.

 The young sergeant gave a fetching grin and chuckled. "I'll hold you to that. If I die, I'll come back and haunt you."

 "Very well," Hux agreed with a small smile, motioning to Phasma to proceed with the anesthesia.

 

The amputation was a success. Hux felt a twinge of guilt that his first reaction was relief in having kept his promise rather than happiness for the young soldier's life. Later that day, another patient died while Hux was operating, and the doctor bitterly added another tally to the number of lives he had lost. _Let God judge me. He didn't even try to save these men,_ Hux thought as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep after an exhausting day.

 Hux dreamed of hellfire. He was walking on a narrow, rocky path through a lake of lava. On either side, bloodied ghouls reached for him, tearing at his clothing and burning his skin. They had the faces of young soldiers, and they moaned, "Why couldn't you save us? God will judge you."

 He broke out into a run and tried to swat away the bony hands grasping him. The fires around him rose until they were towering walls. One of the phantom hands gripped his and wouldn't let go. Hux didn't realize he was screaming until the sound of his own voice woke him up.

 "Doctor, it's okay. You were dreaming," a deep voice whispered next to his ear. Hux groggily turned toward the voice. His "bedroom" was a former ticketing counter, and although he had put out his lamp, he could see lamplight filtering in from the windows that looked out upon the rest of the station. He squinted and tried to make out the features of the man bending over his bed.

 "Sergeant Solo?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

 "I couldn't sleep," the young soldier admitted. Then he added, a bit bashfully, "You were so reassuring earlier, and I'd just hoped... But then I heard you screaming."

 Hux snorted. "Well, now you've seen through my facade."

 The sergeant started to disentangle his fingers from Hux's, and only then did the doctor realize that the hand that wouldn't let go in his dreams was actually Solo's. He also realized that he liked the feeling of the other man's large hand holding his. It was comforting and helped keep him grounded. "Stay," Hux said, gripping Solo's hand tightly. "Please."

 "I was just getting a chair." The soldier laughed, and Hux enjoyed the sound of it a bit too much. This was the other reason he was going straight to hell - what the U.S. Army described as "homosexual proclivities". Hux knew in theory that it was supposed to be sinful and wrong, but in reality he wondered how the pleasant warmth he felt around men like Solo could ever be anything but good and right. Not that he could ever let Solo know, of course.

 When the other man returned with the desk chair, Hux had sat up in his bed in an attempt to keep their interaction professional. "So, Sergeant Solo," he began, "How can I help you sleep?"

 "Ben," the other man stated. "Call me Ben."

 "All right," said Hux. "Call me Hux." He extended his right hand for a handshake, then belatedly recalled that he had just amputated the other man's right arm the previous day and extended his left instead. Ben took it in stride, again letting out a deep laugh that stirred something inside Hux. After the handshake, neither man let go.

 They conversed for longer than Hux had intended. They bonded over being from the Boston area, Ben the son of Italian immigrants and Hux the descendant of early Puritan settlers. Ben hated his father, a petty thief who was always in and out of jail. Hux's father was a university dean; he hated him just as much.

 Prior to his injury, Ben had been hoping for a career in the military. He was athletic, a good shot, and his stature led to a commanding presence. Hux could sense Ben's grip tightening in anger when he talked about his shattered plans and quickly changed the subject.

 "Is there a lucky lady waiting for you at home?" he asked.

 Ben hesitated, his lips parted as if he had words just on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed instead. "No, how about you?"

 Hux stared straight into Ben's eyes. He felt his breath quicken. His hand that was still loosely holding the other man's hand was sweating. "No, I don't." He looked down at their joined hands and then back up at Ben. "It's almost morning. You should try going back to sleep."

 Ben nodded but continued gazing at Hux. It was the doctor who finally, reluctantly, separated their hands.

 "Good night, Ben."

 "Good night, Hux."

 Hux fell asleep shortly after Ben left, and he had no more dreams.

 

The next morning, Nurse Phasma handed Hux a folded letter written in shaky and uneven lettering.

 

**1947**

  _Hux,_

_I do not exaggerate when I say that this is the second time that I owe you my life. I shudder to think what would have happened to me had our paths not crossed. You are my guardian angel, my good luck charm, my light in the darkness. Though I know I can never repay your kindness, I gladly offer to spend my entire life trying. After all, it is a life that only exists because of you._

_Yours truly,_

_B. Solo_

 

A slim girl who wore her dark brown curls elaborately tied atop her head grabbed Hux by the arm. He stiffened. "Relax," she said, "I'm no pickpocket."

 "Then what do you want?" he whispered, almost afraid to hear the response. The girl couldn't have been more than a teenager, and besides, Hux had no desire for female companionship.

 "Are you the man looking for Benedetto Solo?" Her eyes were large and serious, staring into Hux's soul. "What is it? He owes you money?" the girl continued. Caught by surprise, Hux found himself choking on his own saliva and could only shake his head in response. "Is he in trouble?" the girl prodded.

 Hux finally found his voice. "No. I... We met in the war."

 "Oh." The girl's expression softened. She extended her hand, and suddenly she was gushing a stream of words. "I'm Raffaella, but everyone calls me Rey. Ben's my cousin. He hasn't been the same since the war. I suppose it couldn't hurt for him to see an old friend."

 Hux found himself following Rey through a maze of side streets and alleyways. He had a good knack for directions, but the crooked streets of Boston always offered an opportunity for getting lost. Rey was small but speedy, slipping around the next corner just as Hux rounded the previous one. Right around the time Hux started to wonder if he was chasing a ghost, Rey stopped at the door of a brick apartment building. "In here," she said.

 Rey led Hux into the building, up several flights of creaky stairs, and into a dim hallway. "Wait here," she instructed. "I'll let him know he has a visitor." She disappeared into a doorway, and a few minutes later, beckoned Hux to come in.

 The apartment was barely furnished. There was a small table with one chair. A second chair lay broken against the wall. There was a mattress pushed into the corner near the single window. A man sat on it, half propped up against the wall, his long limbs splayed awkwardly. The late-afternoon light did not quite reach him, and he was obscured in shadows.

 "Ben?" Hux whispered. It was surreal. Hux had been searching for Ben for so long now that he feared speaking his name aloud might cause him to disappear in a puff of smoke. There was no response. The figure sat motionless on the mattress. "Ben," Hux repeated, more loudly this time. "It's me, Hux."

 "Hux?" rasped the man on the mattress. He took a swig from the bottle in his left hand, pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, and stumbled over to where Hux stood stiffly. The stench of alcohol on the man's breath was unmistakable, and Hux had to suppress the urge to back away.

 Ben's hair was much, much longer than his military buzz cut. It curled over his ears and at the nape of his neck. The man's face was immediately recognizable, with his long nose and full lips. "Ben," Hux whispered again, not entirely of his own volition. He gently pried the bottle from Ben's fingers and set it on the floor.

 "He's always like this now," said Rey from somewhere behind Hux. He jumped slightly, having forgotten she was in the room. "You know, he wanted to be -"

 "A soldier," Hux finished. At the same time, Rey said, "A painter."

 "A painter?" asked Hux, puzzled.

 "Yeah," she replied matter-of-factly. "Didn't he tell you? I thought you were his best friend. He never talks about the war, except to talk about you."

 Hux licked his lips and tried to think of a response. _No, we just spent one night holding hands and complaining about our families_ was certainly not the right one. Luckily, Ben chose that moment to lose his balance and topple into Hux's arms.

 "Oof!" exclaimed Hux. The man was heavy. It took both Hux and Rey to half-carry, half-drag Ben back to the mattress and set him down.

 "I'm so sorry that you had to see him like this," Rey apologized.

 "No, it's okay. I'm a doctor. I can help."

 "We wouldn't be able to afford it, I'm afraid."

 "It's free. I made a promise to Ben, and I intend to keep it."

 

**1950**

_Dear Hux,_

_My congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. I hope that you and the new Mrs. Hux will be happy together, etcetera etcetera._

_Best,_

_B. Solo_

 

"Come on now, Ben, don't be like that," Hux coaxed. "I don't want to marry any more than you want me to, but my family is giving me no choice."

 Ben stood in a corner of the dimly lit motel room, pouting. "You don't even like them. Why do you care what they think?"

 Hux sighed. He would never get Ben to understand the nuances of upper-class society. "It would cause a scandal to call off the wedding, and besides, I would lose my inheritance."

 "Your inheritance." Ben scowled. "I suppose you want to keep me around as your dirty little secret."

 Ben was not going to budge from his position, so Hux went to him instead, placing his arms around the taller man's neck. "Not exactly _little_ ," he whispered, trying to sound seductive. He really wanted this one last tryst before the wedding festivities and the honeymoon would take him away from Ben for weeks. And who knew how long it would be before he could successfully feign a work emergency to sneak out of his new wife's bed at night? He needed Ben. He needed this to be a night with memories to warm his dreary future.

 To Hux's dismay, Ben was having none of it. He removed Hux's arms from around his neck, though he kept holding the redhead's right hand in his left. "Hux, I'm serious. I don't know if I can do this."

 "You have to," said Hux sadly. "There's no other way."

 Ben dropped Hux's hand and slammed a fist into the wall behind him, leaving a small dent. "Why?" he shouted. "This is so unfair!"

 Hux jumped, startled. "Christ!" he exclaimed. "Get a hold of yourself. _Life_ is not fair. It's not fair that I have to live a double life. It's not fair that I have to marry a woman I barely know instead of the man I love. But we have to deal with it. That's how life is."

 Ben was quiet for a moment as he bit his lip. Then he asked hesitantly, "Could you repeat that?"

 "Life is not fair," snapped Hux, annoyed.

 "No, the part where you said you love me."

 "I thought you knew."

 "I do. I just want to hear it again."

 "No," said Hux, pressing Ben into the wall and kissing him.

 

Hux awoke, tangled in the sheets and in Ben's long limbs. "I wish it could be like this forever," he murmured into Ben's neck.

 "It will be," said Ben, placing a gentle kiss on top of Hux's bright hair. "I'll wait for you, and someday we'll have this forever."

  

**1953**

_My dearest friend,_

_I am glad to hear tidings of the birth of your second child and first daughter. I am humbled by the name you chose for her as I am surely undeserving of such an honor. Please extend my fondest wishes to the lovely Mrs. Virginia Hux as she recovers from her delicate situation. I look forward to meeting little Benedetta when the time is convenient for you and your family. The book shop is busy these days, but I can always spare a day for a treasured friend._

_Faithfully yours,_

_B. Solo_

 

"I trusted you, Brendol!" screeched Virginia. "You were supposed to name the baby after my mother!"

 "Come now, be reasonable. Your mother's name is Bertha. Do you really want to saddle our child with that name?" Hux tried unsuccessfully to keep the disdain from creeping into his voice.

 "It's better than that-" Virginia's voice broke, "-That _Italian_ name that you chose! Tell me you didn't name her after a girl you met overseas during the war."

 Hux almost smiled at the accusation; it was so close and yet utterly inaccurate. "I promise," he said evenly, "There have never been other girls."

 

**1957**

 A single parchment page, written in fancy calligraphy:

  _Mr. L. Skywalker_

_requests the honor of your presence at the_

_marriage of his daughter_

_Raffaella Maria_

_to_

_Mr. Finn J. Wallace_

_on Saturday, the fourth day of May_

_nineteen hundred and fifty-seven_

_at four o'clock_

_in the home of Mr. and Mrs. H. Solo_

_Boston, Mass._

 

 "It is an abomination!" hissed Hux. "Your cousin with that... that-"

 "His _name_ is Finn," growled Ben. "And if they're an abomination, what do you think people would call us?"

 "It's different. We don't try to shove it in people's faces. We're not trying to get married. My God, what if they have a child?" Hux's hands were balled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

 Ben grabbed Hux by the shoulder and tried to shake some sense into the smaller man. "Listen to yourself, Hux! It's 1957. It's high time people set aside their prejudices. _All_ of them."

 Hux trembled under Ben's strong grasp. In a quiet voice he responded, "No, they won't, and I won't waste time holding my breath."

 "Please," Ben begged. "Come to the wedding."

 "I refuse to attend a wedding that I do not support," Hux replied coldly.

 Abruptly, Ben let go of Hux, stalked over to a porcelain vase filled with flowers, and sent it crashing to the ground in a rage. "Fine, don't attend!" Ben shouted. "Why would you celebrate love when you don't even have emotions?"

 "It's not that-" Hux started to stammer, flinching away from Ben's anger.

 "Get. Out," Ben commanded in a low, menacing tone. "If you can't support Rey and Finn, don't come back."

 Hux left, willing himself not to look back.

 

_~~Ben,~~ _

_~~I miss you.~~ _

 

Hux did not look back. Except in the middle of the night, after Virginia and the children had gone to sleep. Hux would pour himself a whiskey and read through the letters that Ben had sent him over the years. Sometimes he would even try to compose new letters, but he never had the courage to send them. Occasionally, he found articles written about Ben in the Boston Globe. It seemed the man had become a painter after all. Hux clipped the articles out and stored them in the box with his letters. _This is God judging me_ , Hux thought in his deepest moments of despair.

 Time, the slippery little weasel that it was, continued to get away from him. Brendol III left for college, followed by Benedetta, and Hux found himself sharing a large, empty house with a woman he had never taken the time to get to know. He was surprised when the divorce papers were served, but only because he had already resigned himself to die in a loveless marriage. Apparently Virginia had not had the same resignation.

 They split their belongings in half. There was no animosity - how could there be when there had never been any passion, only apathy? Virginia got the house. Hux didn't want it anyway. He hadn't wanted any of it. He moved into a small apartment in the city to be closer to the hospital where he worked.

 For fourteen years, Hux wished he had looked back. Then one Saturday, he was eating lunch with his work buddies Doctor Calrissian, Doctor Pava, and Doctor Dameron, when he realized that he had been completely wrong. He couldn't think of a single valid reason why he had objected to Rey and Finn's marriage, and he couldn't believe that he had let such a trivial matter separate him from Ben.

 "What's wrong, buddy?" asked Poe Dameron as Hux stood abruptly from the table.

 "I have to go get my life back," Hux replied, his voice full of passion instead of its usual indifference.

 Hana Calrissian eyed Hux suspiciously. "Are you dying?"

 "No!" He laughed. "I haven't felt this alive in years." He threw a hundred dollar bill on the table, dashed out of the restaurant, and peeled out of the parking lot in his Chevelle.

 "Can anyone say mid-life crisis?" Jessika Pava joked.

 

**1971**

 Hux's hand trembled as he reached for the doorbell and rang it. He heard the patter of little feet run toward the door, and then a child's russet brown face peered through the curtains. "Moooooom!" he heard the kid yell while retreating. "There's a man at the door!"

 A moment later, heavy footsteps approached, and a middle-aged African American man wearing a loudly patterned shirt and a bell-bottoms stood in the doorway. "Can I help you?"

 "I'm looking for a Ben Solo." Hux was preparing himself for disappointment when a familiar face appeared behind the man. She was older and stouter than the girl he had known, but it was unmistakably Rey, which meant that the man who had opened the door was Finn.

 "Hux?" asked Rey, stepping in front of Finn, who was cautiously backing away. Hux realized why when Rey launched into a tirade. "How _dare_ you just show up asking for Ben after all these _years_? Do you have _any_ idea what he's been through? Do you have any idea what he's put _us_ through? You didn't even _write_! You cut him off entirely without a _ny_ reason whatsoever. What makes you think you can just walk into this house looking for my cousin after breaking his heart almost fifteen years ago? You're not welcome here! _Get out_!"

 "Honey..." Finn started to pull Rey back by her arm. Rey snatched her arm back and slammed the door shut. Hux gave a resigned sigh and shook his head sadly. Those were the exact same words Ben had said the last time they had talked. The Skywalker-Solo clan certainly wasn't known for being even-tempered.

 Just as Hux started to turn to leave, he heard the door creak open. The man who had opened it this time was middle-aged, with shaggy salt-and-pepper hair and the beginnings of a receding hairline. His face was dotted with moles, and wrinkles criss-crossed his forehead. Atop his crooked nose sat a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. To Hux, he was the most beautiful sight in the world. "Christ, Ben," he swore softly, "You got old."

 Ben's laugh was musical. "Have you looked in a mirror anytime lately, Hux? With that beard, you're halfway to Santa Claus," he teased.

 "I've missed you," Hux said as tears welled up in his eyes.

 "I know."

 The two men embraced each other tightly. "You never told Rey and Finn why..." Hux trailed off.

 "No."

 "Why not?"

 "It's ugly, Hux. That kind of bigotry. She's my little cousin, and I'd do anything to protect her, even if it means lying to her."

 "Well, I was wrong. I'm sorry."

 Ben stepped back in shock. "What did you say?"

 "I said I was wrong, Ben. Jesus Christ, how many times do you want me to say it?"

 "That's not what I meant. I've just... never heard you apologize before."

 "I'm sorry," Hux repeated quietly.

 "Come inside," said Ben, taking Hux's hand and leading him through the doorway.

 

**2004**

 "Grandpa?" A thin young man, barely out of boyhood, pushed the door open gently and peered into the room. Hux looked at his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, and unruly mop of strawberry blond hair. After spending so much time absorbed in the nostalgia of his box of letters, seeing his grandson was like staring directly into his own past. "It's almost time. Mom sent me to see if you needed help getting ready."

 Hux started to shake his head no, but then he remembered the bow tie on the closet floor and asked the boy to bring it to him. He set the wooden box on the nightstand, closed it, and slowly rose from his seat. His grandson helped him adjust his bow tie and draped his suit jacket over his shoulders.

 Two stretch limousines were waiting outside the front door of Hux's house, barely visible through the crowd of people. His children and grandchildren were there, gripping his arms and helping him into the limo despite his protests that he could walk by himself. He saw Rey, Finn, their children, and their grandchildren. Even his old colleagues Poe Dameron, Jess Pava, and Hana Calrissian had shown up.

 There was only one person Hux didn't see, and that was Ben Solo.

 Ben had insisted on upholding the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding. Hux had unsuccessfully tried to protest that there were no brides involved, only two old men, but in the end, it was a small concession to make.

 As they stood in the courthouse before the judge, surrounded by friends and family, Hux recited his wedding vows. Despite his attempts at keeping his voice even, it cracked with emotion.

 "My, how things have changed. When we first met six decades ago, our wedding day was something I didn't even dare imagine, yet here we are. We've already been through the sickness and health, the laughter and tears. We've fought all the crap that the world tossed at us, and we came out on top. Today is just another day. The point is, we're not young anymore, and this wedding isn't a promise of our future; it's a cherry on top of the life we've already lived together. And it has been a much better life than I could have hoped for, a much better life than I deserved. Ben, I truly... deeply... love you and before we die I want it to be official."

 "Hux, I love you too, you old fool. You're the orator, so I'll just add one thing - we're not dead yet!" Ben gave a lopsided grin and a wink. Hux wondered how, even after all these years, the sight of Ben smiling still made his heart flutter.

 "I now pronounce you husband and husband," declared the judge. "You may kiss the groom."


End file.
